


Meeting

by Eleanor_Lambb



Category: BioShock, BioShock 2
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 22:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4455020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleanor_Lambb/pseuds/Eleanor_Lambb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elizabeth finds herself meeting Eleanor. These gay lesbians</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

   You stared into the water, and waited.

   The other versions of you disappeared from the pond. Leaving ripples behind, like the tap of a finger against a piano key.

  You stared at his body, your father's, body. He seemed content, the pool going still enough to see that the muscles of his face were relaxed.

  The pink sky remained still, pale clouds frigid in place.

  You looked around, and realized you were all alone.

   Your eyes closed. You breathed deeply, and let out a long winded sigh.

   "I can't stay here," you said to yourself. You stared down at your skirt.

   "But......where do I go?" Your voice dropped.

  You looked down at Booker.

   "I can't leave him here, not in the water,"

    You bent down into the water, grabbing Booker's lifeless hands. You dragged him up the hill. He was heavy, but you could still move him.

  You laid a yellow wildflower on his chest. You folded his hands over it. You ripped a piece of your skirt to replace the older wrap on his hand.

  You knelt by his body for a while, picking nearby wildflowers, knotting their stems together into rough bouquets and  placing them next to his head.

  After a while, the reality hit you. You were alone, your sole companion, sole friend, was dead. You felt like you should cry. You couldn't.

  You stood up, brushing dirt and grass off of your soaking skirt. You walked towards the white wooden shed. You grabbed it's handle. You turned for a moment, staring at the body of your father.

  You pulled the door open, and slipped in.


	2. Breach

  You stepped out from behind the enourmous metal doors. Bright sunlight hit your face. You squinted, raising a hand to sheild your eyes. The smell of the ocean hit you hard, it was much stronger than the scent of Battleship Bay, though that scent was an artificial version, so it smelt much sweeter.

  You stared out into the distance. An expanse of blue and green, bright white light glinting off rolling waves like sparks of a fire.

  Stepping through and pushing the door closed, you stared out across the sea, taking in such a massive and spectacular sight. You stepped to the edge of the platform, taking small, careful steps as to not slip on the wet stone and into the water. You bent down and dipped your fingers into the water. It was cold.

  Without warning, a huge explosion of white water burst from the surface, just a few hundred yards away. It startled you, knocking you onto your bottom. You stared, believing a whale of some sort to have breached the surface to breathe before descending back into the dark waters below.

  A loud groan of metal pierced the wind. What emerged was not a whale, but a large craft. As the white water dispersed and settled, you noticed a large and hulking figure grasping onto a bar of the craft. You couldn't see anything too defined, but the figure seemed to be in an old diving suit that you've seen time and time again in the marine biology books from your tower. You stood up, shading your eyes from the bright morning sunlight in an attempt to see better.

  The figure collapsed, and laid still. Your heart dropped. The poor thing must have died as the craft surfaced. A hatch opened on the side, and a small crowd of what seemed like children emerged, followed by a slender figure. The slender one leaned over the fallen diver, raising what seemed like an oversized needle attatched to their arm, and stabbing it into their chest. The slender figure then stood up, and walked over the to the edge of the craft. They sat, and the group of children crowded around them.

  The figure raised their head. They looked towards the lighthouse. They stood up, they motioned the children back into the hatch.

  You held your breath. Had they seen you? Were they friendly, or unfriendly? Just because this figure was friendly with children did not mean that they weren't hostile.

  The craft started moving. The sea moved with it. The craft stopped just feet from the stone steps of the lighthouse. You waited for a minute, holding your breath the entire time.

  He hatch opened, and a mop of dark hair stuck their head out. The figure crawled out, and the parade of children came with them. The figure was a tall, slender girl, in a dirty old divers suit. She was undeniably good looking, and as she noticed you, her pale lips twisted into a small smile. Her grey eyes glinted with a childishness that threw you off. She was a clear four inches taller than you, and her skin was unnaturally pale, like it had never touched the sun. Her black hair just brushed her shoulders.

  The children that followed her were, to your surprise, all girls. They seemed no older than seven, maybe younger, you guessed. One of them grabbed onto the girl's hand.

n The girl held tightly to the little girl's hand. The group of them huddled behind her. She, unlike her young charges, didn't seem to be wary of you. She stepped off of the large metal platform, onto the wet stone steps of the lighthouse.

 "Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but do you live here?" She asked. She took a long legged step towards you. Her accent was strange, but not hard to understand. You straightened out your skirt.

 "Er....no, I dont. I'm just visting." You told her. She brushed dark hair from her forehead.

  "Ah, I see," She looked up at the lighthouse.

  "Well," She looked back at you and extended her hand.

  "I'm Eleanor."

  You awkwardly took her hand.

  "I'm Elizabeth."   Eleanor's smile widened.

  "A pleasure, Miss Elizabeth."

  When you released her hand, she looked down at the pale skin of her fingers.

  "So where are you from?" She asked you.

  "Ex....cuse me?" You said, caught off guard.

  "I mean where did you come from? You said you didn't live here," her grey eyes narrowed.

  "I...." You sighed, "It's a long story," you looked down.

  "Fortunately for you, Elizabeth, I have all the time to listen," She straightened her back.

   "I mean, if you'd like."

   You looked back up at her. She seemed so genuine, and she eager to listen. It never came to your attention that one day you would need to talk about your adventure with Booker Dewitt. But, in any case, you were ready to.

  You flashed a light smile, and he pale cheeks flushed pink.

   "Alright, Eleanor," you stepped forward, and Eleanor stepped to the side. You walked past her and climbed onto the craft.

   "Let's talk."


	3. Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still updating! I promise!

As Eleanor focused her attention onto the crowd of young girls, you couldn't help but notice just how tall she was. You, at a height of five feet, eight inches, were dwarfed by her lanky height. She was easily over six feet, but her clanky divers boots added to that.

Eleanor shooed the girls into the craft, speaking in a lively, sweet tone. You looked over at the body that was once attatched to the craft's side. Whoever it was, was dressed in a hulkling of a divers suit, covered in rust and wet with sea water. The sun may have hit the glass weirdly, but the window of the divers' helmet glowed yellow to you.

A hand touched your shoulder. Surprised, as the hand snapped you out of your train of thought, you twisted quickly around. Eleanor smiled softly at you. You looked back at the body.

"That's terrible," you said quietly, pity gnawing at your stomach, "Who were they?" you asked.

Eleanor's expression softened. He eyebrows creased together a little, the corners of her mouth dropping. Her grey eyes turned to the body.

"My father," she said quietly. Your cheeks turned red, a swirl of curses at yourself filled your head.

"I-I'm so sorry," you said quickly, ashamed at your own ignorance. "I-I'm sorry," You couldn't have known that the body was this girl's father, but you were filled with shame no less. You looked down at your skirt. It was dirty, and wet from your dip in the baptismal waters, and little rips littered the edges.

"Thank you," Eleanor said softly, "He gave his life so that we could-"

"Eleanor!" A little voice pipped up. Eleanor looked back at the entrance hatch to the craft. The pale-skinned girls poked their heads out curiously, heads of brown and blonde and black hair tied up in neat ponytails.

"Eleanor! Eleanor!" They all called, waving dirty hands to her.

"We're coming! We're coming!" She laughed, "Go back inside!"

The girls laughed.

"Go on! In you go!" Eleanor said to them, waving her hand, "Go find Sinclair! He's probably awake by now!"

The girls giggled as they disappeared behind the shadow of the hatch.

Eleanor looked back at you, eyes sparkling with a bright sense of life.

"It's not as bad as you think. He's always going to be with me," she tapped her head with a slender finger, "His guidance, and his memories."

You followed her pale hand as it settled back down at her side. She had delicate, pale hands, wih long slender fingers and short nails that were polished and clean. Unconciously, you wrung your own hands together. They were smaller, stubbier, than Eleanor's own, your skin a shade or two darker. You touched the grimy thimble that was around your pinkie.

Eleanor noticed your movements.

"What happened there?" She asked curiously. You straightened up. 

"Oh, this?" You looked down at your thimble on your pinkie. The once shiny metal was now rubbed away.

"I-" you were cut off by the loud roar of the morning ocean wind. It blew strong, throwing your hair into a mess. It completely bypassed your clothes, sending even your bones into a chill. Eleanor brushed messy bangs from her face.

"It's getting a little cold out, isn't it?" She beamed, "We can continue this when we get inside, Miss Elizabeth!" And your heart did a little flip when she reffered to you as a Miss.

Eleanor turned to the hatch. It was already partially open, and she pulled it outward more with a strength that her body didn't reflect. She held it for you with one thin arm, her other arm outstretching long pale fingers for you so that she could help you down into the craft. You took her delicate hand, and it was very warm. This surprised you, as you were expecting something cold to meet your grasp. 

You lowered yourself down the steps. You looked at Eleanor and her lanky form to see her shut the door, closing off the bright morning light.


End file.
